I drove out to the country mid-morning yesterday, with just a slight chill still in the air, under a cloudless sky and sparkling sun.
I took my car along two lane roads, past farm towns with small regal-looking Baptist and Methodist churches, and well tended lawns regardless of whether they were for mansions, cottages or trailers … spaced between lakes the colour of what I call ‘icy cold blue’.
A few times I thought I should stop and take a picture. But stopping would have interrupted nature’s scenes, so I opted instead to shuffle my tunes and be a bit player in this movie.
Trees were right on the verge of having leaves beyond their buds. Fields showed growth something akin to a greenish five o’clock shadow. And butter yellow daffodils clustered around every curve.
I turned my seat warmer to ‘2’ and opened the sun roof. The natural light on the top of head reflected the red and brown in my hair. The smell of dew-damp bark nipped at my nose with a nostalgia of just-cut-grass … or the smell of a wood burning fire across a meadow.
Fresh and refreshing, it raced my heart as if I were part of a hushed brag, or a magnificent secret.
The physical act of driving along with Shout Out Louds looping through my car kept me present. And when my memory tiptoed to the past, I switched over to Led Zeppelin IV until I was back in the here and now.